


Between The Shadow And The Soul

by cuttooth



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (yes this is silly and horny), Anal Sex, Canon Asexual Character, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Post 186, Praise Kink, Self-actualization through double teaming, Sex interested ace, Threesome, just two Martins being horny for Jon, not actually self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27418681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttooth/pseuds/cuttooth
Summary: Martin feels his face going red as he realizes what the other Martin is talking about. Jon disengages from the other Martin’s arms, and turns to look at him curiously.“What’s he—uh, you—talking about?”“Nothing,” Martin insists at the same time the other Martin says:“We’re wondering what it would be like for both of us to fuck you.”There is absolute silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling the grass. Jon’s eyes go very wide.“Oh,” he says eventually. “Really?”*Martin thinks that Martin should be honest about his fantasies.
Relationships: Also Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin/Jon/Also Martin
Comments: 60
Kudos: 449





	Between The Shadow And The Soul

**Author's Note:**

> My only regret about this fic is that I couldn't fit self-cest into it, but Martin's sexy fantasy took over here. But on the plus side, that means I can still write Martin/Martin later! :3
> 
> The episode transcript calls him "Also Martin", but Martin refers to him as "the other Martin" here.

_“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_   
_in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”_

Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII

Jon finds them, after a while. 

They’re still in Martin’s domain, though he can tell they’re approaching the edges of it, color starting to bleed back into the landscape. The rain has stopped, but Martin—the other Martin—is still walking along beside him. Beside and just a half a step behind, in a way that’s almost deferential. Letting Martin lead.

They meet Jon coming around a craggy outcropping, and Martin is struck for just a moment by how small he looks. Not that Jon is particularly small, he’s probably an inch or two short of average height and just a bit on the skinny side, but striding unafraid around the apocalypse, king of the ruined world, he seems far larger than life. Now, seeing him with fresh eyes, Jon just looks human. Vulnerable, despite all his power. 

He sees Martin too, and his expression lights up in a way that always makes Martin feel warm. Then he sees the other Martin, walking at Martin’s shoulder, and a quizzical look flashes across his face for a second, followed rapidly by amazement as he _knows_ what’s going on. He picks his way through the tussocks of rough grass towards them, and stops with an odd little smile on his face. 

“Hi Jon,” Martin says. It’s good to see him. Really good.

“Hello, Jon,” the other Martin says. 

“Well, I can see you’ve had an interesting time,” says Jon. He tugs Martin into his arms, and Martin pulls him close as he can. Jon’s hair tickles his throat, his breath warm on Martin’s skin.

“You could say that, yeah. Glad I found you, though; I was getting sick of talking to myself.” 

Jon chuckles quietly at that, and the other Martin snorts. 

“Don’t I get a hug?” he asks. Jon looks up, his expression a bit startled, and considers for a moment. 

“Oh!” he says. “I—I suppose you should, yes. Martin?”

“What, you’re asking my permission to hug...me? I mean, it’s a bit weird, but, well, apocalypse. Weird is par for the course.” 

“Yes, it rather is,” Jon agrees, and turns to the other Martin, extending his arms. The other Martin slots into his embrace, wrapping his arms around Jon’s back. It’s odd, seeing himself hugging Jon, how gently the other Martin holds him, his head tilted to rest against Jon’s. It looks right, though. They look good together. The other Martin meets his eyes over Jon’s shoulder. 

“This isn’t the weirdest thing you’re thinking about right now,” he says, amused. “Is it?”

“What are you—shut _up!”_ Martin feels his face going red as he realizes what the other Martin is talking about. Jon disengages from the other Martin’s arms, and turns to look at him curiously. 

“What’s he—uh, you—talking about?” 

“Nothing,” Martin insists at the same time the other Martin says:

“We’re wondering what it would be like for both of us to fuck you.” 

There is absolute silence for a moment, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling the grass. Jon’s eyes go very wide. 

“Oh,” he says eventually. “Really?”

“Yes,” says the other Martin, at the same time Martin says:

“No! Of course not, not _seriously.”_ He glares at the other Martin. “For the love of— There’s a reason some thoughts are private, you know?”

“I’m just trying to help,” the other Martin says, smiling placidly. “Honesty is good.” 

“Oh my god!” Martin rolls his eyes. “Are you ready to stop existing as an independent entity yet?”

“You’re the one that hasn’t left our domain.” 

“Really, though?” says Jon, still wide eyed. “You want to, ahh…”

“Very much so,” the other Martin says enthusiastically, and Jon flushes bright red.

“Shut _up!”_ Martin tries again, though without much hope this time. Looks like this humiliating cat is out of the bag, and now Jon’s going to tease him about it for the rest of eternity. Jon looks at him, and a peculiar expression spreads across his face.

“All right, then.” He sounds pleased—almost a touch giddy. 

“What?” 

“I’ve never had a threesome before. I’ve occasionally been curious about the idea, but the list of people I’ve ever been interested in having sex with isn’t exactly a long one to start with, and then when you take into account the logistics and the potential emotional fallout? It hardly seemed worth the bother. But this is, well, the man I love—” He smiles at Martin, then nods at the other Martin. “—and the man I love. It’s the ideal scenario.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yes, seriously,” says Jon. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“We definitely do,” says the other Martin. Jon shushes him with a frown, then turns his attention back to Martin.

“It’s completely fine if you don’t want to, whatever he says. I know that fantasizing about something isn’t necessarily the same as wanting it to actually happen. It’s your choice.”

Martin stares, his heart pounding. It's always been just a harmless fantasy, since long before the idea of an actual relationship with Jon was a possibility. Back in the days when he fancied his arsehole boss, the idea was appealing; having Jon’s neat, slim body laid out to be manhandled and fucked, all his stuffy composure lost as Martin and some faceless accomplice drilled into him from both ends. The scenario evolved as Jon’s facade dropped and Martin saw his vulnerability. Instead of breaking his self-control, the fantasy became to overwhelm Jon with pleasure, working in tandem to wash his fear and stress away in a tide of sensation. 

Now he and Jon are together, and there’s nothing more Martin could ask for. His private fantasies aren’t something that he ever meant to tell Jon about, and he never imagined this being a real possibility. If his other self hadn’t gone and blurted it out with his talk of being 'more open'. 

Even _considering_ this is absolutely mad. But nothing in the world is what you’d call sane these days, is it? The other Martin gives him an encouraging smile, while Jon waits patiently for his decision. Martin’s mouth is dry when he says:

“Okay, yeah. I want to.” 

“Lovely, we’re all agreed,” says the other Martin. He takes off his backpack and unties a bundle from the top of it, which—when he spreads it out—turns out to be a large tartan blanket. Martin recognizes it as the blanket his dad used to keep folded up in the back of the car, that they used for picnics and visits to the park when he was very small. When his dad was still around. He hears a small, bitter laugh escape him, and the other Martin shrugs apologetically.

“Sorry,” he says. “This place.”

“It’s fine. But couldn’t you, umm, imagine up a hotel room or something?”

“Not how it works, you know that.” 

The other Martin sits down on the blanket and reaches out a hand for Jon. Jon glances at Martin, and when he doesn’t object, takes the hand and folds to his knees. Martin watches, breathless, as his other self cups a hand to Jon’s jaw and draws him in for a kiss. He’s never seen what Jon looks like, kissing someone, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration as his head tilts into the other Martin’s touch. It’s gorgeous. And, Martin has to admit as the kiss goes deeper, Jon making tiny, breathy sounds against the other Martin’s lips, it’s hot as hell. Martin’s already hard in his trousers by the time Jon breaks the kiss and looks up at him, his mouth kiss-flushed and color high in his cheeks.

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. Martin nods dumbly; he wants to more than anything. He lets his backpack fall to the ground and goes to his knees beside Jon, on the other side from his doppelganger. The other Martin only gives him that same placid smile, though he’s as pink-cheeked as Martin can feel he is himself. 

Jon leans in and kisses him, slow and sweet, gradually opening Martin’s mouth beneath his. Behind Jon’s academic composure, he’s an absolutely filthy kisser when he wants to be. He tangles his fingers in Martin’s hair and kisses him deep, making Martin’s body go hot with desire. Jon makes a low, contented sound, and when Martin opens his eyes he sees the other Martin kissing Jon’s neck, from his jaw down to the curve of his shoulder and back up again. Martin thinks he should be jealous at the sight, as Jon tips his head to allow the ministrations, but it’s _him._ He’s the one kissing Jon’s throat, making him shiver and gasp into _his_ mouth, and there is something intensely arousing about that. 

“He’s lovely, isn’t he?” the other Martin remarks, brushing Jon’s hair aside to bite gently at his earlobe. 

“He is,” Martin has to agree, and Jon grumbles where he’s buried his face against Martin’s neck. 

“I am here, you know,” he says, but there’s no bite to it, his tone lazily pleased.

“You should suck him off a bit,” suggests the other Martin, and Martin bristles a bit at being ordered around, but a good idea is a good idea. He presses Jon back into the other Martin’s arms with a final kiss. Jon goes gladly, and as the other Martin strokes his hair, kisses his face, his throat, Martin crawls down Jon’s body and undoes his trousers. 

Jon is still soft when Martin tugs his boxers down around his hips. Martin knows not to take that personally, just as he doesn’t take it personally that Jon isn’t sexually attracted to him; it’s just Jon. It takes more than clothes coming off to get him going, but Martin is very happy to put in the effort when Jon wants him to. 

Now, he draws Jon’s soft cock into his mouth, letting it rest on his tongue. He sucks gently, and gets a response in the form of Jon squirming, a low chuckle from the other Martin. Martin keeps sucking, more insistently now, letting his tongue curl around the head of Jon’s cock as it slowly swells in his mouth. Once it’s hard he pulls off with a pop, taking in the sight. It’s almost more obscene than if Jon was naked, his trousers pulled down just far enough to let his cock jut out, dark red and wet with Martin’s saliva. Jon is slumped against the other Martin’s chest, other Martin’s arms wrapped around him, nuzzling against his ear. The other Martin’s eyes roam down his body, and he smiles. 

“What a good boy,” he murmurs and Jon _moans._ Martin feels his cheeks burning at that, his pulse hammering in his ears; he’s imagined saying that sort of thing to Jon, teasing and cosseting him as he takes him apart, though he could never bring himself to actually do it. But then, that’s sort of the crux of the other Martin, isn’t it? 

“Isn’t he a good boy, Martin?” the other Martin asks conversationally, kissing the side of Jon’s head. Martin swallows hard. 

“Very good,” he manages to say, and Jon gives him a hazy sort of smile. 

“Good enough to deserve fucking, do you think?” 

“Definitely,” says Martin, pulling himself together. “Do you have any, uh—”

“Side pocket,” says the other Martin, and sure enough Martin pulls a small tub of Vaseline out of the backpack. He wrinkles his nose at the smell, a reminder of so many furtive wanks he had as a teenager, terrified his mum would hear the mattress creak. Probably should have expected that. 

“Would you like to be fucked, Jon?” the other Martin is asking as Martin returns to kneeling before him. 

“Yes, please,” says Jon. He kicks his trousers down around his knees and turns over, pushing his arse up and letting his head rest in the other Martin’s lap. Martin’s mouth goes dry all over again. It isn’t the first time they’ve done this—though it’s not a frequent occurrence—but seeing Jon like this, eager and wanton, always makes his blood run hot. 

Jon doesn’t have much of an arse, but what he has is lovely, in Martin’s estimation. He palms the flesh firmly, indulging himself in a little squeeze that makes Jon laugh. Then he parts Jon’s cheeks to reveal the round pucker of his arsehole, and slicks some Vaseline onto his fingers. He probes gently with one fingertip at first, just running it around the tight rim of Jon’s hole, feeling the muscle relax under his touch. When he finally presses, his index finger slips inside easily, and Jon makes a low sound, muffled against the other Martin’s thigh. 

“That’s good, Jon,” Martin hears himself say soothingly, stroking Jon’s hip. A small shiver goes through Jon at that, and he sighs as Martin begins to finger fuck him gently. After a little while, Martin’s able to ease in a second slippery finger, and then a third, Jon’s body going loose and relaxed around him. 

“Oh, yes, that's very good,” the other Martin says, and Martin realizes that he’s got his trousers open and is feeding his cock into Jon’s eager mouth. Jon’s mouth is wet and red and stretched around the other Martin’s cock, and Jon is groaning deep in his throat, rocking back against Martin’s fingers in his arse. Martin is so aroused he can barely breathe, he can almost feel Jon's mouth on his own cock, the phantom heat of it making him dizzy.

“God, Jon,” he breathes, and the other Martin meets his eyes. 

“You really should fuck him,” he says. “He did say ‘please’ after all.”

“Please, Martin,” Jon agrees, pulling off the other Martin’s cock to glance back at him. His expression is dazed with pleasure, and Martin is reminded of how he wanted nothing more, in his fantasy, than to drive all thought out of Jon’s head other than how good he could feel. Turns out all it took was a little help from himself. 

Martin fumbles his trousers open and lets his cock finally spring free. It’s painfully hard, and he’s a bit afraid he might come when he touches it; he bites his lip and manages to coat it with Vaseline and guide the head to Jon’s arsehole without incident. Jon whines around his mouthful of cock when Martin breaches him, pushing past the tight ring of muscle. Inside, he is hot and slick, and Martin sinks into him slowly, inch by inch, holding onto Jon’s hips for dear life. 

Jon moans and pushes back to meet him until Martin starts to thrust into him in earnest, losing himself in the tight, lovely clutch of Jon’s body, drowning in Jon’s sweet moans as he swallows around the other Martin’s cock.

“Good boy, Jon,” the other Martin gasps, gripping his hair, fucking deep into his throat, the way that Martin’s sometimes fantasized about doing.

“Such a good boy,” Martin echoes, reaching down to take Jon’s cock in his hand, stroking it quick and firm while Jon whimpers, his hips bucking frantically into Martin’s touch. Martin feels his orgasm building rapidly, his heart pounding and his body aching for release. He hears a drawn out groan and realizes it’s his own when he sees the other Martin’s head tip back, eyes closed in ecstasy as he comes. It’s the strangest thing Martin’s ever seen.

Jon makes a choked sound, and then he’s coming with a low, shuddering moan that doesn’t quite shape itself around Martin’s name. His cock spills over Martin’s fingers and his arse clenches hard around Martin’s cock, and that’s it, Martin’s gone too, curling over the arch of Jon’s back as he empties himself into Jon's welcoming heat. 

He rests his forehead against Jon’s shoulder as the last aftershocks shiver through him. Jon’s ribcage rises and falls beneath him, his breath slowing and evening out. Martin presses a kiss to his skin, and Jon makes a small, pleased sound. 

“Mmm, that was very nice,” he says, sounding like the cat that got the whole dairy. Martin kisses his shoulder again and then sits up. 

The other Martin is gone. 

“Huh,” Martin says, looking around, as if he might have ducked behind a rock or something. Jon is sitting up as well, tugging his trousers back up. He uses a corner of the blanket to wipe a splash of semen off his face. 

“You know, I _could_ say something about shag-and-run tendencies here,” he says, smiling slyly at Martin. 

“We’re still in my domain, though,” says Martin. “I thought I was stuck with him until I left.”

“I think you were stuck with him until he’d done everything you needed him for.” Jon kisses his cheek. “I’m flattered.” 

“Huh,” says Martin again. He tucks his softening cock back into his trousers, and tries not to feel too ridiculous at the fact that a threesome was apparently what he needed to achieve self-actualization. At least they got a blanket out of the deal. 

They pack up and start out again. The moorland is falling away rapidly now, shifting back into the dull gray landscape that acts as an interstitial between the domains. Martin feels a faint tug in his chest as they go, something that feels a bit like homesickness, but far more greedy. He ignores it. 

“So,” says Jon, his tone fondly teasing. “How long have you been wanting to call me a ‘good boy’?” 

“Quite a while,” Martin admits, then leans in close and murmurs in his ear. “But only because you are such a _very_ good boy.” 

Jon gives a surprised little exhale, and when he turns to Martin there are spots of color high in his cheeks. He laughs breathily. 

“All right,” he says. “That is, ah...quite nice, but let’s not take advantage.”

“I’m with the all powerful Archivist,” Martin reminds him. “I’ll take any advantage I can get.” 

Jon laughs again, and takes his hand, and the two of them walk on together.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @cuttoothed


End file.
